


King and Lionheart

by JGoose13



Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: Apparently I'm just going to continue with these song references, F/M, I went way too far with the Arthurian references, Lucy saves Tim's life, Unbeta-ed yet again, as i do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29872932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JGoose13/pseuds/JGoose13
Summary: Lucy Chen is a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man to rescue her.Except, Tim Bradford complicated things.
Relationships: Tim Bradford & Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 100





	King and Lionheart

**Author's Note:**

> My second foray into Chenford! Definitely feeling a little better about writing them. I'm usually a multi-chapter fic kind of girl, so it's a strange feeling for me to write these one shots. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Again, this is unbeta-ed, so I apologize for the roughness of it.

_His crown lit up the way as we moved slowly_   
_Past the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind_   
_Though far away, though far away, though far away_   
_We're still the same, we're still the same, we're still the same_

_Howling ghosts they reappear_   
_In mountains that are stacked with fear_   
_But you're a king and I'm a lionheart_

_~ King and Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men_

Lucy Chen is a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man to rescue her.

Except, Tim Bradford complicated things. 

The insufferable man brought out the most primal, primitive part of her. In her very DNA. The deep seated part seeking a mate to care for her, provide, cherish… 

She hated that part.

But the man was practically the king of cops, a cop’s cop, the kind of cop that makes a name for himself on sheer drive and determination and the want to be _something_. To find meaning. To not be his father, to not see himself as a failed husband, to not be his past...

And if she just paused a moment and thought, truly thought, an unbidden nugget would slip across her wires, and Lucy’s sure she’d admit he is the king of her heart too. 

_Damn, that’s cheesy as hell_.

If Tim Bradford was king, her ex-T.O., commander in chief, well then she was his knight. His bodyguard. His lionheart.

“Tim!” 

Without hesitation, Lucy threw herself against her T.O., bringing them both to the ground, but thankfully out of reach of the bullets whizzing by overhead. 

They’d just arrived at an abandoned warehouse on an alarm trip call, and the gunman had come from the shadows.  
  
Adrenaline coursed through her veins, breath catching, in full fight or flight. 

“You going to get off me, Officer Chen?” Her gruff T.O. asked. 

It was then she noticed she’d landed on top of him, chest to chest, hip to hip, legs entwined. Lucy felt her cheeks tinge pink, but found herself distracted by the firm muscle beneath her hands and the warmth radiating from him and seeping into her skin. 

“Um…” 

“The answer is yes,” he replied, but to be fair, he made no move to remove her from atop him.

Her heart hammering against her ribs, Lucy scrambled -- reluctantly -- off of him, and crouched behind a stack of empty oil drums. Her hand went to her hip immediately, pulling her service weapon out and training it in the direction of the initial shots. A quick glance showed Tim had secured himself behind cover of his own, gun out and finger near the trigger. 

After that was a blur. Tim, no stranger to combat and making snap decisions, began taking point, instructing her with a series of hand motions. Lucy nodded, and crept out from behind the oil drums in the opposite direction, dipping into the shadows as cover to flank the shooter. Taking Tim’s direction was as seamless and mindless as breathing. She trusted him with her life, with every fiber of herself, every muscle, sinew, bone… every beat of her heart. 

Tim drew the gunman’s fire, outing the shooter’s location instantly. Lucy acted. Light-footed and sure, she crept behind the man and pressed the muzzle of the pistol against the nape of the shooter’s neck. “LAPD. Drop the weapon,” she said calmly. 

The shooter, a white male about 5 foot, 10 inches with brown hair and a royal purple hoodie, froze, his arms going up instantly. 

“The gun,” she prompted. 

The man slowly set the handgun on the ground. Lucy swept her foot out, sliding the gun in the direction she knew Tim stood. 

Another frustrating thing… knowing where the man was at all times without having to see him. All Lucy needed was to feel him. His presence was enough, larger than life. 

“Hands behind your head. Interlock your fingers,” she commanded. 

The man, to his credit, complied. Lucy holstered her weapon and grabbed her pair of cuffs, making quick work of the physical arrest. 

“Nice job, Officer Chen,” Tim praised, in that way that was so stern and matter of fact, as though reluctant to do so for you doing your job. It was so hidden, you could almost miss the approval.

Once, Lucy would have smiled and thanked him, but now she was all business. After a pat down of the shooter, she led him out to her shop, and folded him into the back seat. He looked surly, but resigned to his fate, as though he knew the moment he fired the first bullet at two cops that he would be going to jail. 

“Boot-- Officer Chen,” Tim immediately corrected himself as he stepped over, having done a quick sweep of the warehouse and the perimeter. He looked at ease, as he always did after a fire fight, thumbs hooked into his utility belt. It was as though he had been born of this, born of fire and blood and metal and conflict. How he could still be so soft, a damn teddy bear, Lucy would never know. 

“Sergeant Bradford,” Lucy greeted in return.

For a brief moment, (later Lucy would blame the fact that she’d been working three, 12 hour shifts straight with little to no fitful sleep in between) Tim almost appeared impossibly taller, standing straighter, a glow of light around his head as though a gold crown sat there. She was reminded of an English Lit class she’d taken in undergrad, when they read sections of Arthurian myth. Like Tim was Arthur, his service glock Excalibur, and the weight of Camelot’s safety on his shoulders. And Lucy? Well, Lucy would probably be the ever faithful Sir Bedivere, the last to see the legendary king alive, with him to the bitter end. 

The gold light around Tim’s head turned out to be the cavalry, headlights illuminating the area they stood.

“Thanks.” 

“For what, sir?” Lucy asked, swallowing thickly. No man had the right to look that beautiful. 

“Thanks for having my back.” His gratitude came a lot easier these days. Personal growth. 

“It’s my job,” Lucy replied with a soft quirk of her lips, echoing words she’d spoken what seemed so long ago. 

Tim almost looked disappointed. He nodded, and turned on his heel to head back to his own shop. 

Lucy gritted her teeth, hands clenched into fists at her sides. Why did she feel as though she’d just screwed up? A golden opportunity missed? 

They had not been T.O. and rookie in months. Thankfully, she still could see him regularly as they worked the same shifts, but it wasn’t the same as being trapped in the cab of a car with him for hours on end. 

She missed it. She missed him. Missed this. Being at his side. Protecting him, and him protecting her. 

The -- _thing_ \-- between them was undeniable, and she’d thought for sure once they’d gotten past the T.O/Rookie dynamic he would do _something_. 

But waiting for him was like being the sword in the stone, sitting for years stuck, immovable, until one day someone, someone special, someone worth came to liberate her. 

“Tim,” Lucy called out before she could stop herself. 

The man stopped immediately, as though he’d been anticipating this, anticipating her. He turned, looking back at her with this indescribable expression, as though bracing, not wanting to hope too much. He didn’t say anything, just waited. 

Jesus, what would she do now? What should she say? 

“Tim, I…” Lucy trailed off, pressing her palm to her forehead. She hoped to God he couldn’t see her hand shaking. In that moment, she didn’t much feel like a lionheart. A knight worthy enough to serve at the side of her king. 

“Lucy, hey, you guys okay?” 

Jackson. The cavalry. And Nolan. And Sergeant Grey. Jesus the whole damn department had shown up. 

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Lucy replied, her gaze falling from those harsh blue eyes that were at the same time vulnerable, soft. “Do you think you could do me a favor and take this guy back to the station to start processing him?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Jackson replied, stepping over to the back door and hauling the guy out. “You sure you’re okay?” Her best friend and roommate gripped the guy tightly around his forearm, but still looked concerned for her well being. Best. Friend. Ever. 

“Promise, I’m good,” Lucy said, forcing her smile wider. 

Jackson nodded and side-stepped away.

Then came Nolan. Then Grey. And really all Lucy wanted was for them to get back in their cars and leave her and Tim be. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen, and before she knew it she was on another call, and then it was end of shift.

Exhausted, Lucy slipped from the locker room and quickly made for her car. The faster she did, the faster she could get home, and put all this weirdness behind her. Thank God for three days off. 

When she reached her car, Lucy stopped dead. Tim, looking illegally good in his civvies, leaned casually against the beater she’d bought, hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“Um, hi,” she greeted, fidgeting slightly from foot to foot. 

“Hey.” 

“Did you need something?” 

Tim shook his head, that simultaneously harsh yet soft blue gaze catching and holding hers, holding her hostage. Not that she would leave. He’d caught her in his regal orbit, and there was no releasing her now. 

“I thought-- I thought maybe you would want to tell me what you couldn’t earlier,” he said, pushing in that way only Tim Bradford could. 

“Oh, earlier?” Lucy’s voice cracked as she tried her best to sound flippant. “Can’t remember. Couldn’t have been anything important.” She tried to step around him, key in hand, but his hand shot out, gently but firmly gripping her upper arm. 

“Please don’t,” he said softly. “I know you, Lucy. You’re lying. Please don’t lie to me.” 

Shit, he’d called her _Lucy_ . Rarely did he do that, always Boot or Chen or Officer Chen. When he _did_ call her Lucy, he meant business.

“Tim, there’s nothing to say,” Lucy huffed, shrugging off his hold, and sliding the key home in the door. She opened the driver’s side, the door creaking metallically on its hinges. Lucy threw her bag onto the passenger seat, trying to be dismissive as though there was nothing else for her to say. Which was true. What could she say? 

_Oh, Tim, by the way, I’ve had a massive school girl crush on you for months now, and it may actually have evolved into genuine affection and, God forbid,_ love _. What is_ love _, anyway?_ _Last time I opened myself up for something romantic I got put in a barrel and almost suffocated_. _And Lord help me, but if there was anyone I could allow in, it would be you. You whom I trust implicitly_. 

That? Is that what she would say?

“I don’t believe that. And neither do you,” Tim said, his voice pitching low. “As I said… I know you, Lucy. I know damn near everything about you. Your lunch order, your coffee order that’s more dessert than coffee, the different smiles you have, the things that put that little sparkle in your eye--”

Lucy surged forward, gnashing her lips against Tim’s in a very uncoordinated, undignified kiss. Their noses bumped just this side of too hard, and of all the times to be so damn awkward, she had to choose this moment. 

“ _Dammit_ ,” she hissed, pulling away as quickly as she’d moved forward. So stupid. “Erm, night.” 

“Whoa, wait.” 

And before she could blink, Tim twirled her to face him, flawlessly sealing his lips against hers. 

Lucy sank against him, her arms snaking around his trim waist and holding tightly. She stood on her toes to reach him, and Tim stooped to meet her. It started as a simple touch, just pressing softness against softness. And then Tim parted his lips, teasing hers, and the kiss heated just a little. Any other time, Lucy would quickly grow impatient, and while she craved more, more of his taste and the feel of his body against hers, she was content with this as a start.

Because hot damn, Tim Bradford was kissing _her_. 

… And then he wasn’t kissing her, the bastard, pulling away just enough to put a millimeter between them. 

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” He said, words more breath than true sound. 

“Maybe…” Lucy swallowed, hating and loving the wide openness of the gleam in his eyes.

“Good, because that’s how I would have responded.” 

Lucy snorted, shaking her head. And damn, that little smile on his full lips made her heart twinge at the sweetness of it.

“You saved my life again today,” he continued.

Lucy shrugged, tightening her hold around him, squeezing, because she _could_.

“And as I said, it’s my job, my liege.” 

His eyebrows furrowed. “Liege?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” she grinned wider, craning up on her toes again to kiss him, tender and warm and oh so good. 

He was the king, the one she’d lay her life on the line for without hesitation, and she was his lionheart.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter @JGoose753 and Tumblr @JGoose13.


End file.
